Each day begins with a simple reminder: even in Ascension Bay, shots at permit are not to be wasted. Leave the trout fisherman in you at home and strip set. Strip set. Strip set. (photo: Chad Shmukler)

Permit have achieved somewhat of a mythical status in the fishing world. They are said to be wily. Spooky. Selective. Whatever the case, largely considered more rare and elusive than bonefish or tarpon, they are regarded by many to be the crown jewel of the world of saltwater flats fishing. They are also generally thought of as exceedingly difficult to take on a fly. When discussing permit, the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission essentially recommends that fly fishermen just stay home, noting that anglers might just as well "keep their artificial lures in the tackle box", given that only "on rare occasions, a patient and persistent fly fisher may land a permit."

The reality, fortunately, is a great deal less dramatic. Permit, which -- like bonefish -- feed on small crabs and occasionally shrimp and other creatures on shallow sand flats, are readily taken on the fly, especially in places like Mexico's Ascension Bay, which is widely held to be the premier destination for permit-hungry anglers. Permit cruise Ascension Bay in great numbers and the fish see relatively little pressure due to the bay's remote location.

On the northern end of Ascension Bay lies Punta Allen, three or four hours of travel south from Cancun. Of Punta Allen's few angling outfits, perhaps no operation has landing permit on the fly more dialed in than the Palometa Club. Every boat that leaves the club's shores each morning has two guides aboard, regardless of whether there are one or two anglers in the boat. The guides have developed a unique system that favors chasing permit on foot over fishing from the boat, electing to toss one guide and angler into the water on the chase while the other guide spots fish from the boat's poling platform. It is not only a more intensive, active and adrenaline driving way of chasing permit, but one that increases the number of shots anglers yield from each encounter, and thus one that has dramatically increased the number of permit hooked up and brought to hand.

Arriving on a Friday, we're greeted with the information that the group that departed that morning landed eight permit the day before. 18 for the week. Success awaits.

Yet, as the boats pull back onto the beach at the end of our first day we're quickly reminded that while the mythology of permit being unattainable has grown well beyond reason, the challenge involved with putting it all together and bringing one of these amazing fish to hand is unquestionably real. The variables -- sun, clouds, wind, fish and angler -- are all still there. And four days later, the unexpected north wind that greeted us upon setting out on our first morning on the bay continues to blow. Sightings of our quarry have been few and far between. The steady north wind has presumably pushed the permit off shore, limiting our chances to a few hurried shots at rapidly passing schools.

As the fifth day kicks off, even though there's some excitement at breakfast because the north wind has backed off a bit, I'm beginning to wonder what all the fuss is about. Truth be told, being a relative greenhorn on the flats, I don't have the fish eye that the guides or my fishing partner have. As a result, I'm not even sure I've even seen a permit yet. I find myself wondering if we should forget about this nonsense and go back to the unexpectedly large bonefish that have been taking us into our backing all week.

But then it happens. As we pole the boat, the guides spot a lone permit, cruising one of the bay's countless, limitless flats. And, for the first time, I see it too. The silhouette of the fish's massive sickle tail is unmistakable in the sun bleached, gin clear water, and I feel dizzy. Depsite its seemingly significant distance from us when it was sighted, it is mere moments before the guides have the boat in position and I'm being rushed into the water. The chop of the bay is up to my armpits as we chase the fish on foot and Julio, one of our guides, is repeatedly pleading that I pick up the pace while simultaneously finding a way to do so more quietly. Through labored breaths I do my best to explain that these are mutually exclusive options, a suggestion which is quickly dismissed as nonsense. After a another minute or two of chase, the fish turns and we get our shot. In fact, we get two. The first is, much to my great surprise, right on target but I strip too soon and don't let the fly sink to the bottom. The second practically hits the fish on the head, and it's gone. Just like that.

As we scramble back onto the boat, I get it. Even though my first permit doesn't come till the next day, when we land four -- two of which disappeared backing at a rate that made me sincerely worried I was going to get spooled by a 15 pound fish -- despite blown opportunities on dozens of feeding permit, I realize I'll be back to chase permit again. Only next time, I'll be joining the rest of the junkies in scoffing at the idea of chasing bonefish, jacks, tarpon, cuda and so on. Honestly, who would bother when permit are about?

Each day begins with a simple reminder: even in Ascension Bay, shots at permit are not to be wasted. Leave the trout fisherman in you at home and strip set. Strip set. Strip set. (photo: Chad Shmukler)

Mexican panga boats can navigate remarkably skinny water, almost as skinny as the most advanced modern flats skiffs. Unlike flats skiffs, however, panga boats have the brawn to handle often encountered swell and chop that is part of the long runs across Ascension Bay. (photo: Chad Shmukler)

The flats on Ascension Bay stretch on seemingly endlessly, offering opportunities for lengthy searches for permit, bonefish and other local species. (photo: Chad Shmukler)

(1/2) As quickly as the storm approaches, it passes, and sun re-appears on the northern horizon. The many bonefish that come to hand continue to surprise in terms of their size. While Ascension Bay's bonefish are known to be plentiful in number, they aren't known for their size. Reports from recent years suggest large specimens are becoming more common, and the evidence matches (photo: Chad Shmukler).

(2/2) As quickly as the storm approaches, it passes, and sun re-appears on the northern horizon. The many bonefish that come to hand continue to surprise in terms of their size. While Ascension Bay's bonefish are known to be plentiful in number, they aren't known for their size. Reports from recent years suggest large specimens are becoming more common, and the evidence matches (photo: Chad Shmukler).

(1/4) An idyllic island serves as a meeting point for a midday lunch where tales of the morning's happenings are shared. Resident iguanas quickly emerge from the jungle brush in search of handouts from anglers (photo: Chad Shmukler).

(2/4) An idyllic island serves as a meeting point for a midday lunch where tales of the morning's happenings are shared. Resident iguanas quickly emerge from the jungle brush in search of handouts from anglers (photo: Chad Shmukler).

(3/4) An idyllic island serves as a meeting point for a midday lunch where tales of the morning's happenings are shared. Resident iguanas quickly emerge from the jungle brush in search of handouts from anglers (photo: Chad Shmukler).

(4/4) An idyllic island serves as a meeting point for a midday lunch where tales of the morning's happenings are shared. Resident iguanas quickly emerge from the jungle brush in search of handouts from anglers (photo: Chad Shmukler).

The bay offers no shortage of distractions from the search for permit. Jack crevalle are plentiful and easy to catch. Even the tiniest jacks can put a healthy bend in an eight weight. Quarry like this 12 pound horsehead jack, will bruise as well as other fish three times its size (photo: Chad Shmukler).

Barracuda are a woefully under-targeted species on the flats. This minor specimen attacked the fly with almost incomprehensible speed and aggression and doubled over a stiff 9 weight for the duration of an extended fight (photo: Chad Shmukler).

This small permit was plucked from fairly deep water while exploring a blue hole in search of barracuda. When it is the first of the day, even small permit are big. (photo: Chad Shmukler)

Permit caught in Ascension Bay are tagged as part of the Bonefish & Tarpon Trust's "Project Permit", which endeavors to gather valuable data on permit (photo: Chad Shmukler).

(1/3) The Palometa Club's recipe for success puts two guides in every boat and opts to chase permit on foot whenever possible. The result is more shots at each fish or school of fish thanks to the angler's increased maneuverability and the reduced likelihood of spooking the fish with the boat. Add in the vastly amplified adrenaline factor, and this is permit fishing. (photo: Matt Jones)

(2/3) The Palometa Club's recipe for success puts two guides in every boat and opts to chase permit on foot whenever possible. The result is more shots at each fish or school of fish thanks to the angler's increased maneuverability and the reduced likelihood of spooking the fish with the boat. Add in the vastly amplified adrenaline factor, and this is permit fishing. (photo: Matt Jones)

(2/3) The Palometa Club's recipe for success puts two guides in every boat and opts to chase permit on foot whenever possible. The result is more shots at each fish or school of fish thanks to the angler's increased maneuverability and the reduced likelihood of spooking the fish with the boat. Add in the vastly amplified adrenaline factor, and this is permit fishing. (photo: Matt Jones)

Whether the permit fishing is good, or whether it is bad, there's always one last boat carrying anglers that convinced their guides to check "one last flat". Here, a sole boat motors towards the lighthouse and the calm waters of Punta Allen's shores (photo: Chad Shmukler).

A permit tears off line, hooked after a lengthy pursuit on foot through what was thankfully only waist deep water. The fish makes several runs before coming to hand (photo: Chad Shmukler).

(1/3) Every permit is celebrated, but this one perhaps more so. After a week of tough weather and morning encounter that saw a securely hooked permit broken off by a certain over-zealous angler, the cradling and hoisting of this fine specimen brings a collective sense of elation to both guides and anglers. (photo: Chad Shmukler)

(2/3) Every permit is celebrated, but this one perhaps more so. After a week of tough weather and morning encounter that saw a securely hooked permit broken off by a certain over-zealous angler, the cradling and hoisting of this fine specimen brings a collective sense of elation to both guides and anglers. (photo: Chad Shmukler)

(3/3) Every permit is celebrated, but this one perhaps more so. After a week of tough weather and morning encounter that saw a securely hooked permit broken off by a certain over-zealous angler, the cradling and hoisting of this fine specimen brings a collective sense of elation to both guides and anglers. (photo: Chad Shmukler)

If you catch a permit, it is your job to properly release it. Chris Hunt does so here (photo: Chad Shmukler).

(1/3) When the conditions on the bay are typical, shots at permit can be plentiful. With the early morning hex broken by a successful foot chase, the shots keep coming, a mere fraction of which are properly taken advantage of. In all, four permit find their way to the boat for tagging, with shots at many more blown along the way (photo: Chad Shmukler).

(2/3) When the conditions on the bay are typical, shots at permit can be plentiful. With the early morning hex broken by a successful foot chase, the shots keep coming, a mere fraction of which are properly taken advantage of. In all, four permit find their way to the boat for tagging, with shots at many more blown along the way (photo: Chad Shmukler).

(3/3) When the conditions on the bay are typical, shots at permit can be plentiful. With the early morning hex broken by a successful foot chase, the shots keep coming, a mere fraction of which are properly taken advantage of. In all, four permit find their way to the boat for tagging, with shots at many more blown along the way (photo: Chad Shmukler).

Guests that land a permit hang a flag on the flagpole that adorns the beach in front of the club. With conditions back to normal, 5 flags are hung and admired on day six (photo: Chad Shmukler).

Greg,
Happy to hear that you enjoy visiting our fishery in Punta Allen. We would love to host you sometime. Just wanted to kick in with a friendly post correcting your statement there are 18 lodges on Ascension Bay. This is not accurate and I would hate to give Hatch Mag readership the impression we have an overcrowded and highly pressured fishery. The Mexican Government and the Sian Kaan Reserve have limited the number of fishing guide licenses available - and there are no more fly fishing boats on the bay today than there was 20 years ago.

My correction was only meant to indicate that I couldn't speak to the number of operations that were departing from other towns/etc that have access to the bay. I had intended to speak only about Punta Allen.

That said, in the course of a week, I think we saw one other boat that was from another lodge, and it was from another Punta Allen lodge.

They certainly may have been out fishing somewhere amongst the vastness of Ascension Bay, but we didn't seem them.

I envy you for getting a chance to play and land permit, but I've already joined the ranks of junkies without even an eat under my belt yet, just a few rejections and plenty of those variables you discussed. Great read, thanks!

Thanks AJ. More to come on the permit front, but glad you enjoyed the read and hopefully the photography as well.

And I hear you on being hooked w/o an eat. I was pretty much hooked after that foot chase. When there are permit to be found, the allure seems too great to resist, even if there's bonefish about that are easier for the taking.